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Urvad the Orphan
Urvad Zulburban, otherwise known as Urvad the Orphan, is the current mountain king of all the dwarves. Family Backstory Urvad does not remember his parents. According to the stories he was told as a child, his father Aban was a warrior, and his mother Shorast was an engraver. His mother passed during childbirth. His father was killed in battle not a week later. As the story goes, Aban could not bare the loss of his wife, so he volunteered for what was certainly a suicide mission. According to the legends, he snuck into a goblin encampment all alone. Using his short sword and shield, Aban snuck up and assasinated the goblin chieftain. Upon leaving the leader's tent he was spotted. Aban stood and faced the goblins that came at him. Legend tells that he slew 17 goblins before succumbing to his wounds. Aban and Shorast have become something of legend in Mazun Zirva. Early LIfe With the loss of his parents Urvad had only one survivng family member, his paternal great-grandfather. Urvad lived with his great-grandfather Lorbim all the way up until his adulthood. Urvad was a quiet child, preferring to listen than to speak. Lorbim had taught himself how to roughly read and right after he had retired from military service, so he taught Urvad all he knew. Urvad excelled academically, he loved to learn. But there was one thing that he loved more than learning; the steel short sword that hung over his great-grandfather's hearth. The sword had been passed down from father to son in his clan for ages. Though their clan had never been large, this was the first time in ages that there was no father to give the sword to his son. But that did not deter young Urvad. He knew the history, and he knew that one day, that sword would belong to him, and so he loved that sword, and everything that it stood for. Urvad practice hsi combat skills as much as possible. He had a wooden sword and shield that Lorbim had given him on his fourth birthday. Lorbim himself was an expert warrior, training young recruits long after he grew too old for active service. Even though he was both a great teacher and warrior, he refused to train Urvad. He had lost both his son and his grandson to the heat of war, and he had trained countless recruits that had came back as corpses. He could not bare the thought of the same happening to young Urvad. Other than that, Urvad got along great with Lorbim. He loved to listen to his great-grandfathers stories, especially of his father and grandfather that he never knew. And the two never bonded more than when they played (Insert board game here). Lorbim would let Urvad win at first, but by the age of 6 Urvad could hold his own, he was brilliant with the tactics required. Early Career As soon as he could, Urvad went against Lorbim's will and enlisted for the stronghold's milita. It had been tradition form many generations in his family, and he intended to keep it that way. He was eagerly accepted, and put in a mentorship, a two person squad of swordsdwarves. For the first year of his career, he just trained under his mentor. Most of it was just review. but he studied dilligently. He learned what he needed to, and he was ready for battle. He didn't see actual combat until over a year after he enlisted. A group of human bandits were attacking a group of woodcutters up on the surface. Urvad and the rest of the milita responded. Urvad was the only first-year recruit to get a kill. All 23 bandits were slain, Urvad slaying 2 of them himself. There were 2 dwarven deaths and three others injured. Urvad hadn't taken a hit, using his shield a little and dodging the rest of the attacks. He helped carry the wounded back while being congratulated on his prowess in battle. First Promotion The next two years of service were spent training and in minor skirmishes. Urvad grew wiser and his skills sharper. Then, in the fourth year of his duty, an orc warband attacked the stronghold. It was a mighty battle with fifty some orc warriors attacking the strongholds 45 strong millitia. In the end, the dwarves prevailed. Atleast 40 orcs were slain. Urvad racked up three orcish kills that day. But the day was bittersweet. Again, Urvad was unscathed, but there were 8 dwarven casualties and multiple injuries. Among the fallen lay Urvad's mentor and closest friend. This time Urvad did not walk home to congrats and merryment. Urvad carried the older swordsdwarf's body down to the mausoleum, where he said his final goodbyes. Two days later Urvad had been informed that the baron promoted him to Captain of the new swordsdwarf squad. He would lead and train four new swordsmen recruits. In a sense, Urvad was proud. The sword paired with the shield was finally starting the impress his superiors. He was also proud he had been recognized for his bravery. In another sense, Urvad despised the promotion. The reason he was picked, and he was sure of this, was because he was to replace his deceased mentor. He saw the lack of empathy the superiors gave him when he mentioned his mentor. It disgusted him. He could not stand the thought of wasted dwarven lives. Stronghold Commander Urvad served two more years as swords captain in the stronghold. He fought bravely, the stronghold seemed to get attacked more and more often. One day in particular helped him leave his mark on the stronghold. It was early autumn and a wave of migrants had been seen headed north towards the stronghold. Then, just as welcome celebrations had started, a goblin ambush had been spotted in path to intercept the new arrivals. The call to arms was sent and Urvad was the first out of the gate to protect them. The goblins were much closer to them than Urvad. The migrants looked doomed, ten goblins were closing in on the twelve goblins. Before they got too close the lead goblin staggered back. Urvad was confused at first, but then he saw a bolt sticking out of the goblin's shoulder. A lone dwarf had started firing his crossbow while the others ran for the stronghold, a hunter by the looks of him. He fired 6 bolts before they rached him. The dwarf attempted to fight back, but he got a spear through his shoulder. Urvad saw the lead goblin swing his mace at the kneeling dwarf, then he saw the lifeless body slump to the ground. At this point Urvad was enraged. He let out a horrible yell and charged off toward the goblins. Upon reaching the first one he swung his family's steel shortsword. The gobin's severed head hit the ground about the same instant Urvad's sword had cleaved an arm off the next goblin. He kept on dodging in and out of the goblins and swinging every chance he got. He only used his trusty shield twice. When he the other dwarves had arrived to help six goblins lay dead around him. The three goblins left were dispatched by the other dwarves with ease. Everyone started back toward the stronghold. Urvad had many of the dwarves pat him on the back and tell him congrats as he picked up the hunter's body and slung it over his shoulder. Urvad started off behind the other dwarves, slower because of the body on his shoulder. A moment later he heard a metallic hit behind him. He jogged toward the noise. One of his recruits was using his shield to defend himself against a lone spear goblin. The recruit had been pierced in the wrist and his sword laid a few feet away. Without removing the body from his shoulder, Urvad ran up and finished the goblin. Urvad sheathed his sword and turned to the injured boy, who was no more than 22 years of age. Urvad looked at his arm, there was no way the boy could do much with his hand for the rest of his life. He kept his observations to himself though, and told the boy how proud he was of him, and sent him back to the stronghold. Urvad took his time walking back to his home, the day's events weighing heavily on his mind. The hunter slung over his shoulder was a hero, and Urvad was going to make sure that he was treated as such. The boy was also courageous. Urvad would aslo see to helping find the boy a career where he could still help the community with his arm in the condition it was in. The death of the hunter was tragic, and the boy's condition gave him chills, but one thing scared Urvad more than anything, himself. He recalled what he could of the skirmish. He didn't remember much, but what he did was clear. He had acted on instinct. He was like an enraged animal, not thinking, just killing. It was what he had trained himself for since he was little, yet it terrified him. Upon arriving at the stronghold Urvad arrived to a celebration. The welcoming celebration was in full swing for the new migrants. But the festivities quited as he entered. Loud roars of laughter and the traditional dwarves drums all died off. Urvad was amazed, he started to raise the body on his shoulder, to tell the people of the hero, to give him his final hurrah. RIght before he did so a deafining yell from all the dwarves rang out, 'Commander Urvad!' At first, Urvad was utterly confused, then it dawned on him. The month prior the stronghold's commander had fallen in battle. Ever since the leaders had been looking for someone to replace him. Urvad had another chill, he had been selected to lead the entire stronghold milita. He made his way through thte crowds, rejecting mugs of ale thrust at him by his long time friends. He stopped dead at his tracks. A lone woman sat in the corner bawling her eyes out despise all of the festivities around her. Urvad walked over to the lone woman and asked what was the matter. When she looked up at him her bawling turned to screaming. Urvad kept insiting she tell him what was troubling her. She was trying, but she couldn't talk for crying, until finally she raised a shaky finger to the figure still slung over Urvad's shoulder. He had felt many chills go down his spine, but the one he felt at that moment still haunts him to this very day. Urvad's grabbed the woman by the arm and lead her to a more quiet area. He explained to her that her husband was a hero, and he would see to it that he had the funeral he deserved. The woman nodded her thanks, and headed off to continue grieving. Urvad's first order as stronghold commander had nothing to do with the milita. Instead, it was to hold a most honorable funeral for the fallen hunter, a true hero. The Final Straw Over the next four years Urvad worked hard to insure that the stronghold was in the best shape militaristically as it had ever been. The hostillity around the stronghold continued, but Urvad was passionate about his dwarves. He trained them hard but cared for them more, and as a result, each attack on the stronghold was defeated, with record low casualties. Urvad had everything going smoothly. Until his great-grandfather suddenly passed away. Lorbim was the only family that Urvad had ever known. It shattered his world. He knew Lorbim was extremely proud of him and his accomplishments, but one thing tore at the very strings of his soul. Urvad went against Lorbim to enlist in the milita. Lorbim had since gotten over that, and said it was fine, he understood, but Urvad had never apologized for his actions. He had always meant to, but he was not the best with words, and he never knew how to say. Lorbim's quick demise had stripped Urvad of the opportunity to ever apologize, and it tore Urvad apart. Not a few days after Lorbim's funeral Urvad recieved new of a war between the dwarves and the goblins. Urvad was to accompany the biggest army he could muster toward the dwarven captial. Within a two weeks of Lorbim's passing Urvad and his milita arrived at the capital. Urvad worked diligently to ensure him and his troops were as prepared as possible, but Lorbim's death still tore at his heart. The dwarves had recieved that the goblins were going to seige the dwarven captial, in hopes of securing it and discouraging al lthe minor strongholds. Urvad and his milita lined up with all the other dwarven warriors behind the dwarrven war walls. The dwarves numbered at about 3000 troops, with the goblins having about 5000 soldiers. The dwarves were outnumbered, but they liked their odds. The dwarves readied themselves as the goblins grew near, their arrows already plinking into the war walls. As the goblins grew increasingly close Urvad looked at all of his men, then at all the other dwarves. He thought to himself that lives should not be wasted like such. Then he thought of the thousands of goblins coming toward him. He then realized that there were no other options. The war horn blew and the dwarven drums started. The dwarves started their attacked. Spiked extended out of the other side of the war walls and the dwarves started charging into the goblins. The newly desgined walls worked great, taking out several hundred goblins before they knew what hit them. Urvad was pushing one of the walls with some of his men when he heard a terrible crack. Their tipped off balance and went crashing forward. A yound sword dwarf, one of Urvad's newest recruits was catapulted into a mass of goblins. Urvad would not see such a young lad ripped to shreds, not again. With no thought of his own life Urvad charged. He ran straight into the wall of goblins toward the sword dwarf. He swung savagely, dodging goblin attacks and cutting them down one after the other. After a brief moment he spotted the axedwarf. One of his arms had broken, presumably from his landing. He was fighting off a goblin with his sword in his good hand. Urvad made his way to him. With one fell swoop Urvad decapatated the contesting goblin. He reached down and slung the axedwarf over his shield shoulder. He turned around and started back toward the dwarven line. Urvad swung at a few more goblins before raching the dwarves again. He set the axedwarf down behind one of the war walls, and told another recruit to escort him to the medic. To Urvad's surprise, the sword dwarf refused, saying that he would stay and fight, he would not retreat. At first Urvad was confused at the dwarf's stubborness. Then their eyes met. Urvad could see the fire in the young dwarves eyes. Urvad thought back to his father, his grandfather, and his great-grandfather. He tought back to the hunter and the injured recruit. He nodded to the sword recruit and ran back toward the goblin line. At this point Urvad himself cannot tell you of his actions. He entered a state of eternal rage, but at the same time, it was one of piece. He had accepted the idea of death, but he would fall without some serious sacrifice from the goblins. He kept dodging and swinging everytime he got the chance. He was relying on instincts, and he knew it, but he continued. A small amount of time seemed like an eternity. Urvad had stopped thinking all together. He just kept swinging. His tance finally stopped. He heard yelling, but not chants of war, cries of pain, or scrams of terror. He heard chants of victory. The goblins were retreating. Urvad slowlyt came back to his senses. The goblin wall that he charged into was gone. In it's place were bodies littering the ground. A line of goblins could be seen fleeing a few yards away. Urvad sheathed his sword. He started back toward the dwarven line, where many warriors still stood. He saw a few familiar faces and realized there were a group from his stronghold, his men. Cheers went up when they saw their commander. Urvad reached them and asked how many had fallen that day. He stopped dead in his tracks. He heard someone say none. They all shook their heads. They had all stayed together, moving as a team, watching each others backs. If one was injured the others looked after them. Urvad had never been more thankful. Just as he didn't know what to say one of the recruits in the back said, 'Yes sir, we all did exactly what you said to do, and we're here to tell you about it. Thank you, sir.' Urvad could feel a tear well up in his eye, then we he raised his head to see who had siad it, he saw a familiar pair of eyes staring back at him. A young sword dwarf with a broken arm. That evening all of the brave warriors who had fought in the battle that morning were invited to a feast held by the queen. All the dwarves were ecstatic for the food, until they learned of the reason. The feast was held in honor, of the king. The king who had fallen in the battle. The warriors were shocked. The king's death had been kept a secret. But the dwarves were reassured, told to enjoy the feast, it's what the king would have wanted. After a while the dwarves warmed back up, telling stories of the battle earlier that day. All of Urvad's men (who he opted to sti with instead of the other commanders) were shocked to learn that he had no idea how many goblins he slew. One recruit spoke up, 'I saw you slay at least twenty of 'em.' Then another, 'No sir, more like 30!' Urvad just laughed and told them they were to kind. THen someone spoke up that there would be an official count the next day, as per dwarven tradition. The dwarves were invited to camp in the capital for the next two weeks, in case of another goblin attack. On the fourth day Urvad was told some unexpected news. As the king had no male heir, and his daugheters and queen thought they were not fit to rule, a new king was to be crowned, and Urvad was a candidate. There were many rumors around the camps for those next week and a half or so. Some said Urvad stood no chance, others said he was guaranteed to win (Mostly his men said the latter.) All that was certain was that there was to be another feast on the next to last day, were the new king would be crowned. The days came and went, and Urvad felt himself getting excited, which was a feeling that he was not accustomed to. Finally the day came and all the warriors and townsfolk gathered for a feast of legendary proportions. The dwarves had a hearty time, just being dwarves. Then came Elder Urist, the imprompto leader after the king's death. Now, comes the time to choose our new king. I'm sure everyone here knows how we as dwarves choose our mountain king. You may now begin. On cue, thousands of dwarves started chanting names. It's dwarven tradition for the dwarves to start chanting the name of the dwarf they want to become king. If a name starts fading out the chanters will usualy switch to another dwarf still in the running. The name being chanted the loudest at the end is the new mountain king. Urvad just sat in his usual silience. Atleast a dozen names were echoing throughout the area. He smiled, his name could be heard decently loud. All of his men around him chanting his name and glanicing at him, smiling at their leader. This countinued for at least twenty minutes. Several name had dropped out of the running, now there were only three. Urvad's name was still being chanted, now much louder as others, mostly from strongholds close to his own, he noted. One of the the other two names was slowly fading out. Leaving only Urvad and (Name) the commander of the capials forces, known throughtout the dwarven land. By this point Urvad had accepted defeat, as he knew his odds. But he was happy, (Name) was an honorable dwarf, and a pretty nice guy. He would make a new king. To Urvad's surprise the names were being chanted at about the same volume, he could not tell that one was louder than the other. Elder Urist was also debating, you could tell that he was just as confused. Just then Urvad noticed a new figure up on the platform beside Urist. He was trying to get everyone's attention, but he was failing. He smiled, he grabbed a huge cooking pan off the table that a hog had been brought out on. He propped it up against a wall just right. He then took the weapon out of its scabbard and slammed it against the pan. The echoing thud was nearly deafining. Everyone was immediately silenced. The lone figure started to address the crowd. 'Alright, I know, I'm not supposed to do this, but I can't help myself. It's obvious that the chanting has come down to two names, (Name) and Urvad. I know I'm not supposed to tey and swindle you for one or the other, but I have one thing to say. I was in that battle two weeks ago. In an unfortunate accident I was catapulted into the middle of them. I thought I was done for. I knew I was done for. I gripped my sword, laying on the ground, blocking attacks from goblins, knowing I couldn't hold out much longer. And that's when he appeared. My commander. He fought of the goblins and carried me back to the dwarven line, he saved my life. Now, you're probably wondering which of the two I'm talking about. I'll give you a hint, I've looked up to him all my life. Back at our stronghold, my father was his mentor. He taught him most of what he did out there a few days ago. I had watched the young recruit grow, becoming stronger and more skilled. I looked up to him then, thinking that maybe I could be like him some day.' 'But there is one day that has made me respect him so much more. My father, his mentor, died in battle defending our stronghold against a seige. This dwarf stayed by his side the whole time. And even when my father was struck my an orcish spear, and the life started fading from his eyes, this man stayed right by him, cutting down the orc. He defended my father the entire battle, risking his life hoping that there was some way the doctors could save him. The battle was long and hard, but he stayed there the entire time, making sure nothing else hurt my father. As soon as the battle ended he carefully carried my father to the doctor. But it was too late, he had already passed. The dwarf sat by when the doctor looked over my father, and when it was time to carry him to the grave keeper in the mausoleum he asked if he could take him, he said that he owed it to my father. By this time my mother and I had heard that my father had been wounded we ran to the doctor. We met the two of them right outside the doctor's quarters. My mother collapsed as soon as she saw him, she knew then that he was gone.' 'But I had hope. I kept running. I crashed into him. Tears rushing down my face. I was 12 years old, and my father was my world. The man just stared at me for a second. I was lost in his eyes. I could tell he was on the verge of crying. But he held it in, he would not let me see him break down, it would have crushed my sprits that much more, and he knew that. "Listen to me" He said, grabbing my arm. "Your father is in a better place now. He has went to join all of your ancestors, he's home." My crying grew my violent and I buried my face in his arm. "Listen to me, " He said again, removing my face from his arm, staring at me again. "The last thing he said, was to tel him how proud he was of you. He told me that he loved you so much, and he passed happy thinking of how you'll live on." My crying lessened at that. "He lives on through you, and no matter what you do, he will be proud of you, and he will always be with you." He was still staring into my eyes, I could see an emptyness inside him. "And he told me to give you these." He reached around behind him, pulling a shield out. He handed it to me. I took it in shaking hands. He reached back again, and pulled out my father's sword, this one right here.' He held up his sword above his head. ' "I told him I would look after you. And I promised him that if you so choose, I will teach you how to use those. Just like he taught me." He nodded. I nodded back. It was all I could do.' 'He pointed at my mother. "This is going to be tough for her. You have to stay strong and help her, do you understand?" One last time I nodded my head. Tears still rolling down my cheeks. He nodded his head, patted my shoulder, and stood up. Without another word he walked off. Carrying my father toward the mausoleum.' 'My mother and I took a while, but we got our lives back to normal. But that wouldn't have been possible if it weren't for him. And I think him for that. I can honestly say I don't know anyone else who works so hard to help other, and he's just everything a dwarf should strive to be. Again, thanks.' With that he walked off, and for a brief moment, everything was quiet. Then one figure at the commanders table stood up. Urvad recognized him as the commander as the capital's millita. 'Urvad, Urvad, Urvad.' He started chanting slowly. And then another stood up and joined him, and another. Within seconds every dwarf was standing, chanting Urvad's name. And before he could stand up, he noticed Elder Urist start to address the crowd. The young swords dwarf hit the pan again, and again, all was quiet. Elder Urist spoke, 'Well then, I guess it's decided!' Before he could say anything else all the dwarves started back, chanting Urvad's name. At the moment he smiled, great big, from ear to ear. And he could swear he felt Lorbim, his grandfather, all of his ancestors, even his father smiling down at him.